


All I Want For Christmas (Is You)

by dea_liberty



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dea_liberty/pseuds/dea_liberty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a Christmas elf that thinks Christmas has lost its magic, which is not surprising, really, when he works at Toys "R" Us. Working in retail at Christmas time can kill anyone's Christmas spirit. Harry is a customer that comes in looking for a present for his goddaughter and finds something else worth writing to Santa for.<br/>;<br/><i>It’s the last Saturday before Christmas and, at this precise moment, he’s never, ever hated Christmas more. “No,” he hisses into the phone for what he feels like the thousandth time in the space of about a minute. “I can’t get another three hundred Playstations just because some stupid popstar tweeted about it.” He stomps down the next aisle. As luck would have it, it’s the fucking Barbie and Ken doll aisle and right there in front of him is a doll of the bloody popstar in question. Louis wants to step on it.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want For Christmas (Is You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ologist/gifts).



> The request was for a fic with a Christmas theme that may or may not have Christmas mythos worked into it! I went with "may". Thank you for organising this thing, and I really, really hope you enjoy this. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
> 
> A huge thank you to Vae (itinerant_vae), Michelle (micmezle) and Leah (supernope) for their help! They were absolutely incredible, and this wouldn't be half what it is now without them. Thank you, girls! You're the best.

Being one of Santa’s elves isn’t really as great as Louis used to think it would be. When Louis was little and he still sometimes talked to his father, he’d tell him all these stories about how hard they’d work all year on the toys and the gifts, and how they’d all sit around as Santa read out the letters from children all around the world, and how they’d pack those carefully handcrafted gifts into Santa’s sleigh and wave as he disappeared into the night. He’d talk about how they’d get everything ready for Santa’s homecoming, and how they’d clear away their work - just for a day - to celebrate Christmas together: another year, another job well done and, once again, a world full of happy children.

These days, Santa doesn’t even read them out anymore. The letters to Santa come mostly in the form of emails and amazon wishlists which pop up on the screens of their mobile phones with the subject line “TO BE FULFILLED”, and all the requests are for Playstations and X-Boxes and My Little Ponies. Louis loves his Playstation as much as the next guy - maybe even _more_ because he really, really loves his Playstation - but honestly, can’t people get a little more creative at Christmas time? It’s the one day in the entire year when you can wish for absolutely anything in the world, and there is actually a chance that a miracle could happen and you’ll actually get it - and what do people wish for? Factory manufactured things that you can walk into a store any day of the year and just buy right off the shelf.

It kind of lacks traditional Christmas magic, really. It’s all a bit disappointing. 

And okay, okay, his opinion on this matter is probably a little personal because, _honestly_ , he’d grown up with these amazing stories about how incredible it was to be an elf, and the magic that went into every toy, and the miracle that was Santa’s Grotto as it got closer and closer to Christmas - the life and the fun and just...the _magic_. From everything he’d heard, life as an elf is just _brilliant_ , especially at Christmas time. But what is Louis’s experience as Santa’s little helper? Working at Toys "R" bloody Us.

“To be closer to the children,” Santa had told him when he’d asked. “To get first hand experience. To understand what they want and…” And, apparently, to use Toys "R" Us’s resources to buy all the toys on everyone’s wishlists so that Santa can deliver them to said children at Christmas. Or, if Christmas was too far away (if it was, say, May or something - because yes, Louis works at Toys "R" Us every day of the bloody year), to encourage and nudge and hint until parents get the right idea.

When Louis had complained about how _commercial_ he thinks everything is, and asked about why there is so little _magic_ involved, Santa had said, “It’s still giving toys to children, isn’t it? Times change, Louis, we have to change with it,” before he’d gone back to checking his email on his brand new iPad air. 

Louis _hates_ Christmas.

It’s the last Saturday before Christmas and, at this precise moment, he’s never, ever hated Christmas more. “No,” he hisses into the phone for what he feels like the thousandth time in the space of about a minute. “I can’t get another three hundred Playstations just because some stupid popstar tweeted about it.” He stomps down the next aisle. As luck would have it, it’s the fucking Barbie and Ken doll aisle and right there in front of him is a doll of the bloody popstar in question. Louis wants to step on it. Instead, he starts shuffling the boxes around, hiding the boybander’s doll behind his bandmates’. Every. Single. Doll. One by one.

Bastard. Making his life fucking difficult four days before Christmas. 

His flash of vindictive satisfaction is immediately eclipsed by Santa speaking in his ear. “No,” he says, “I don’t care if I’m ruining Christmas for those poor three hundred children! They should have thought of it faster, shouldn’t they? I should have more - no. There’s no such thing is Christmas fucking spirit, and if there is, you just killed it. Talk to an elf that cares.” He jabs at the end call button viciously and shoved the last doll behind its blond friend, ignoring the fact that he’d done it a little _too_ violently and accidentally knocked the stupid thing into singing.

Honestly, a singing fucking Ken doll. He wants to burn the lot of them.

“Well,” says a voice from beside him, slow and careful. “I take it you aren’t a fan.”

Louis starts violently, knocking over several boxes as he clutches at the shelf, turning around to glare venomously at the intruder. “Fuck Santa on a snowboard, don’t sneak up on a guy like that!”

The stranger blinks at Louis, the corner of his mouth (unusually wide and very, very pink - is the guy wearing lipstick or what?) tugging up into an amused smile that he’s clearly trying to hide for Louis’s sake. Or something. “Fuck Santa on a snowboard? Really?”

“Shut up,” Louis says, absolutely mortified. The curse sounds really, really, stupidly strange - and just plain _stupid_ \- in that accent. In that voice. Said _that slowly_. How does anyone even really talk that slowly? He’s got to be taking the piss.

The stranger laughs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to like.” He gestures vaguely. Louis has absolutely no clue what he’s trying to say. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you? I just - I’ve kind of been trying to get your attention for a while but you were really...um. Into your conversation there and - you sound kind of frustrated? And with the...” The guy makes another vague flappy sort of gesture in the direction of Louis’s rather special shelving technique. And then he sort of gives up and just shrugs. “Thing. You just sound frustrated,” he concludes.

“I work in retail,” Louis says dryly, refusing to be endeared by the rambling. He’s angry, damn it. And he really, really hates people sneaking up on him. Especially when he’s talking to Santa. “It’s Christmas. Frustrated’s pretty much a constant state.”

“Okay,” the guy says slowly, and fuck Louis sideways, it actually looks like he’s paying attention. And really actually putting some thought into this. Who the hell is this guy? “But you look more frustrated than...normal Christmas time frustrated? And like...what’s this guy,” he gestures to the shelf and Louis’s attempts to hide the stupid boybander’s doll, “ever done to you anyway? No one deserves to be put in the back like that.”

Louis lets out a long-suffering sigh and shuffles a few - just a few - boxes back to their rightful place. “He tweeted about fucking Playstations. Like, is that really how easily people change their minds these days? All because of some bloke’s bloody tweeting?” 

He glances over to find the stranger looking at him and actually paying attention to what he’s saying. _Actually_ paying attention too, not zoned out like most people get when someone starts rambling. The guy looks, unsurprisingly, a little confused still. “Okay,” he says after a moment like he’s actually considered Louis’s question. “And the problem is…?”

“Where am I supposed to get that many Playstations?” Louis says, throwing his hands up in frustration. “They don’t just - you can’t just make them out of thin air, you know? You have to source this stuff and order it in advance and just - it’s never reasonable? And like, S - my boss, right? He’s always just all…” He gestures a little wildly. “ _Demand, demand, demand_ without even considering how I’m going to fill them!”

Mystery Bloke reaches over and squeezes his arm, grip firm and certain and strangely (stupidly) reassuring. Louis takes a breath. “It’s four days until Christmas,” he says as though he thinks Louis doesn’t know that already. It’s _four days_ until Christmas and he’s not finished finding everything he needs to find to fill Santa’s sleigh. Not that it _really_ matters because whatever present Santa brings is probably going to be lost in the flurry of opening all the _other_ presents that the parents have already bought (probably a bloody Playstation too) anyway.

His job has no meaning.

Fuck, his entire life is meaningless.

He hates Christmas _so much_.

“It’s four days until Christmas,” the guy says again. “People will understand, yeah? I mean, if they’ve left their Christmas shopping this late…”

Louis makes a face. “People rarely understand,” he says matter-of-factly. “When it comes to getting that perfect Christmas present, no one understands anything. It’s all so commercial these days. All business. Nothing nice about it at all.”

“For someone dressed as an elf, you sure hate Christmas a lot, don’t you?” Harry asks, and then adds, “Louis,” when he notices Louis’s name tag. Louis hates the name tag. He hates the elf costume even more. It’s like a mockery of everything he isn’t. Everything is just a big gimmick to make people spend more money. Nothing is sacred.

“Yes,” Louis says decisively. “I really do.”

“Hey now,” the guy says, and Louis’s getting kind of tired of referring to him like that in his head - where he should probably be referring to him as “the customer” and not “the guy” or even “the really fit bloke”, so before he can say whatever it is he’s going to say, Louis interrupts him.

“What’s your name?” Which is probably really, really rude and will probably get him fired, which - _good_. It’ll serve Santa right and then some.

“Harry,” the guy - Harry - answers, apparently unfazed. “And how can you hate Christmas, Louis? Especially when you’re wearing that cute little hat.” Harry taps the ball of fluff at the end of the tip with one finger.

“Especially _because_ I’m wearing this bloody hat more like,” Louis says huffily and straightens the angle of the thing, sending the end flopping in the right direction. He carefully rearranges his fringe. 

“But it looks really cute on you,” Harry argues - and yes, yes, that is definitely, definitely a flirtier little smile than the one before it had been. _Definitely_ flirtier, and god, Louis does _not_ have time for this. No matter how tempted he is (and yes, he is tempted). He’s got to find three hundred fucking Playstations if he has to borrow Rudolf and fly to bloody Japan himself. 

He lets out a sigh. “Look, is there something I can help you with?” It’s not that he wants to get rid of Harry exactly (because, let’s face it, the bloke’s nice to look at and that’s a great distraction from wanting to burn down Toys "R" Us) but he does have a job - or two jobs, if he’s being precise - to do and it’s _four days_ until Christmas. 

Harry looks a little bit sheepish. “Actually, yeah. I was looking for something for my goddaughter? She’s two so… To be completely honest, I have no fucking clue what to get her. I mean, she already has so much stuff and...well, she’s two. But it’s _Christmas_ so it’s got to be something special, you know?”

“Are we going for traditional what people like to think is for girls or are we going for something a bit different?” Louis says, and he doesn’t mean to sound short but...but he’s tired. And he doesn’t want to argue with Harry about Christmas. Actually, he doesn’t even want to talk to Harry about Christmas because what he really, _really_ wants to say is that you _can’t find_ anything special at a store like Toys "R" Us. Not really anyway.

But whatever. No one believes in “special” anymore anyway so why waste his breath? He’s going to find three hundred Playstations after he’s done helping Harry find a generically special present.

“Something different - oh, actually!” Harry says, lighting up like a fucking Christmas tree and, for just a second, Louis is distracted from everything. Just for a second. “Music! I want something music-related.” He looks at Louis before he looks around thoughtfully. “...do they do musical instruments for two year olds?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, shaking his head a little to bring himself back to the present. To finding _presents_ for little girls. Because that’s what he’s supposed to do: find presents for children. Not get distracted by a guy’s dimples. “They’re over here. I’ll show you.” To the generic _press this button and it’ll make a sound!_ pretend musical instruments. 

Yay.

Louis tries not to think about how he’d really, really like to make Harry’s goddaughter her own music box that will play her something unique and beautiful, something hand crafted that sounds like _music_ , and not some electronically engineered _thing_. Louis absolutely doesn’t think about doing that. Because that’s just stupid. Because people don’t appreciate that sort of thing anymore. Because that isn’t what Christmas is about.

It’s about “jingle bells” and fake Santa’s fake Grottos in department stores, and the only Christmas miracle that Louis’s going to be getting is conjuring up three hundred fucking Playstations from out of nowhere.

***

Louis is restocking the bottom shelf of the Crayola section when he hears someone nervously clearing their throat beside him. He gives an annoyed huff of a breath and very pointedly puts one more set of washable felt tips onto the shelf before he looks over at the pair of brown boots standing beside him and then up (and up and up a pair of very, very nice legs) to see Harry looking down at him a bit nervously. 

“Umm...hi?” Harry offers when Louis’s eyes finally make it up to his face.

“You’re back again?” Louis says a little stupidly, but he’s surprised. And he’s sitting on the floor, staring up at Harry and very, very definitely noticing how bloody gorgeous his legs are in those skin-tight skinny jeans. Which is just because of the angle. That’s _all_.

He is not ridiculously endeared by the fact that Harry’s back at the store or anything. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just another shopper here to do the whole commercial Christmas thing.

“Yeah,” Harry says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I just...I don’t know. Nothing seemed right yesterday? Didn’t find what I was looking for so… I was kind of hoping you’d help me?”

Oh Santa’s beard, Louis hates it when they say that. Because he’s an elf and he’s almost honour-bound to help make some kid’s Christmas, which sometimes meant he had to follow stupidly picky people around the stupid toy store looking for the perfect gift when Louis doesn’t even believe the perfect gift is _in_ the store.

Louis sighs and swivels around, puts out two hands towards Harry pointedly. “Help me up,” he demands. To his surprise, Harry doesn’t even hesitate before he pulls Louis to his feet.

Louis spares one more glance at the boxes of Crayola still needing to be shelved and figures they can wait a bit; helping out a customer’s got to be considered more important anyway. He gestures for them to start walking in the direction of the musical toys. “Music, right? That’s what you said yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, following Louis, keeping pace with him easily. Because apparently, his legs were stupidly ( _stupidly_ ) long. “She really likes music.” 

“Nothing here caught your eye?” Louis asks, stopping at the section for two year olds and gesturing to the row of factory manufactured instruments in every shape and form, all with several buttons that played stupidly similar songs. 

“I was going to go for the guitar-thing?” Harry says, gesturing to said guitar-thing. “But then I tried out the buttons and stuff and just… It’s not really her kind of music. It’s a bit generic.”

Louis wrinkles his nose and glances over. “Not her kind of music? I thought she was two.”

“You remembered!” Harry says, looking far too gleeful. Louis remembers something about a little girl that Harry told him yesterday? It really isn’t cause for _that_ blinding a smile. And the smile and Harry’s happiness is absolutely not a reason Louis should be feeling proud of himself or...or anything. It’s _ridiculous_ , he tells himself very firmly. Absolutely fucking ridiculous.

“Yeah,” Louis says, trying to sound uninterested. And uninvested. 

Harry’s still bloody beaming at him. “Anyway, yes, she’s two.” At Louis’s look, Harry adds, “She’s a very clever two year old? And she definitely has a type of music.”

“What’s that then?”

“Nirvana.” Louis snorts. “And other stuff too. Her taste varies a lot. Like she’s also a big Ed Sheeran fan.” After a pause, Harry adds, “And she’s a big Little Mix fan. Her mum does Little Mix’s hair and makeup so she kind of has to be.” 

“Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself?” Louis asks, amused. And maybe a little endeared. Mostly by the “this commercial stuff is not really good enough for my goddaughter” attitude. Not by the smile or the dimples or anything. 

Harry tries to look wounded. “No!” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just… What does Twinkle Twinkle Little Star in electronic manufactured sounds got on Nirvana, you know?”

That startles a laugh out of Louis. “Okay, when you put it that way… Maybe the musical instruments section isn’t what you’re really looking for.”

Louis thinks he’d make her a little music box that plays a rearranged version of _Smells Like Teen Spirit_. The song choice is a little bit cliched - and not really relevant for a two year old - but it’s still got to be miles better than Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Anyway, at some point, the little girl’s going to grow up to be a teenager and it’ll be plenty relevant then.

“What about a cuddly toy?” Louis suggests, turning down the right aisle. “What kind of thing does she like?”

“Well, her current favourite’s this like...rabbit thing. I think it’s a rabbit anyway. It might just be a long-eared bear?” Harry says, and everything he says seems wonderful and exciting even if he says it _so slowly_ , and Louis thinks he just...he puts so much care into every word that comes out of his mouth and takes time to voice his thoughts and give them weight. Even the really ridiculous ones. “But her favourite thing at the moment is probably my mate’s dog, Loki. Like, she tries so hard to cling onto Loki’s little ear and his little tail and like. Loki’s a puppy, you know? He runs away a lot.”

Louis blinks. “Okay,” he says, glancing along the shelf until he finds the dogs section and leads Harry that way. “What kind of dog is Loki?”

“A husky,” Harry says firmly. And then adds, “I think.”

Louis snorts and grabs a husky off the shelf. “Like this?”

Harry lights up. Fuck, Harry’s got to stop doing that. Or Louis has to stop getting distracted by it. And making Christmas tree comparisons in his head, which is still probably better than the “star” or “sun” comparisons that a part of his brain kind of really wants to make. Because that’s entirely ridiculous. 

“Yes! Exactly. You’re a genius.” He takes it out of Louis’s hands. Their fingers brush by accident and the touch lingers for just a moment before Harry pulls the soft toy back to inspect it, and Louis clenches his hand into a fist to stop the tingling. It’s probably just been too long since he’s had any real contact of any kind that doesn’t involve trying to find the perfect present or reading emails about needing to source two hundred more _Minions_ from that stupid, stupid movie. 

“Louis?” 

Louis blinks out of his little daze to find Harry waving a hand in front of his face. Louis absolutely does not blush. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I said you’re a lifesaver,” Harry repeats, lips tugging up into a small smile. “And can I please say thank you properly - in true Christmas spirit - by buying you dinner?”

Louis’s entire mind goes completely blank. “I’m working,” Louis blurts out, heart pounding, heat rising to his cheeks so fast his eyes start to burn a bit. He glances away. “Speaking of which, I should get back. Hope your goddaughter likes her present.”

And, like an idiot, he speed walks away.

***

When he hears the throat-clearing, Louis doesn’t even look up. “Did the husky not work out?”

“Loki’s cuter,” Harry says. “I don’t think she’s going to buy it.” When Louis finishes counting the boxes on the shelf and turns around to look at Harry, Harry is standing there with a smile that manages to be both incredibly nervous and hopeful at the same time. Louis purses his lips and tries very hard not to offer a comforting smile back even though he really, really wants to.

Harry is just a customer that’s apparently very difficult to please, Louis reminds himself firmly. And both as a loyal, sworn elf to Santa and as a person working in retail, it’s his duty to find a way to make Harry happy.

...but not in the ways his brain is trying to suggest. Especially not in a toy store surrounded by children, and with Harry thinking about what to buy for his goddaughter’s Christmas present.

 _Get it together, Louis,_ he tells himself, and he hopes that none of this is showing on his face. He gives Harry what he hopes is a neutral smile instead. 

“She’s two years old,” Louis reminds Harry again - as if Harry’s the one who could forget how old this little girl is. “Are you absolutely sure she’s going to be able to tell the difference?”

“Yes,” Harry says, and then shrugs a little. “Actually, no. I just...It doesn’t feel right? It still doesn’t feel - y’know - special. Do you know what I mean?”

Louis sort of does - but he doesn’t think Harry means what Louis’s thinking. After all, he’s in Toys "R" Us. He’s clearly not looking for artisan, unique work or anything like that. He’s just looking for a toy that’s going to make this girl smile.

Louis resolutely does not think about how, when he’d got home last night, he’d actually pulled out his toolbox and toyed with the idea of making a music box because...because people don’t do that these days. People don’t want that.

They want a simple, easy, no-fuss toy that is going to make a child smile.

He nods and offers Harry an “of course” in his most customer-service friendly voice. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

“Sort of,” Harry says, and Louis shifts his weight slightly when he realises Harry’s staring at him, focused and intense and, for just a moment, Louis wonders if it’s this girl’s toy Harry’s actually talking about. Then Harry’s eyes screw up a little bit as he grins, bright and easy. “Except not really. Help?”

Louis sort of wants to bang his head against a shelf.

An hour later, Louis _definitely_ wants to bang his head against something - anything - repeatedly. As much as Louis is most definitely endeared by Harry’s crusade to find the perfect present for his goddaughter - a gorgeous little girl called Lux (yes, he’s been shown the pictures) - Louis has Things that he should be doing. Like finishing stocking stuff. And checking in on Santa. And checking his email in case yet another child has decided to rewrite their letters to Santa or, like the miracle of Rudolf’s nose, those last few procrastinating children finally finish their letters.

The point is, he’s supposed to be _working_. And most definitely not supposed to be getting excited about Christmas because of a floppy-haired, pigeon-toed manchild. 

It’s absolutely packed in the store, and his manager’s been giving him the stink eye every single time he and Harry have walked past him (and it’s been at least five times) but since Louis’s helping a customer, there’s not a lot his manager can do about it. It probably also helps that Harry is possibly one of the most helpful people Louis’s ever met in his life and he keeps stopping to help countless other people with their Christmas shopping. 

It started with a child who couldn’t reach a box and has included helping someone’s grandmother check the label to make sure the toy is made from all new materials, helping a middle-aged man find the Lego aisle, helping a mother decide whether the green or the blue would be better for her child and, most recently, helping one of _Louis’s coworkers_ wrap up a strangely-shaped gift.

He’s also picked up, on his rounds, several nerf guns, a few of the new Playstation games releases, an entire set of those ridiculous boyband dolls, a pack of iron-on stickers and fabric markers - all for friends and family - and a friendship bracelet kit that Louis strongly suspects is for Harry himself.

But still no gift for Lux.

When they pass Louis’s manager for the sixth time, Louis gives in and asks, “Harry, what are you actually looking for?”

Harry glances over at Louis a bit guiltily. “I… Are you bored? Am I keeping you? Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. Are you going to get into trouble? Like...I should...I’ll buy more stuff?”

“That’s not - that’s not what I’m saying,” Louis says, reaching out to squeeze Harry’s arm lightly and stopping his flow of apologies. “I’m just… I want to help - I really, really do - but we’ve walked around a _lot_ of times now and nothing’s catching your eye so…” He trails off pointedly. 

“I was… I thought I’d know it when I saw it,” Harry says, looking guilty, and Louis really, really wants to turn back time. Wants to wipe that look from Harry’s face and put his smile back on it. Fuck. “I just - it’s Christmas, you know?” he says quietly. “Like, I don’t want to get her just _anything_. I want… I want it to be special. I want it to be perfect. I think that’s what Christmas is all about - that bit of magic during this time of year that means you get exactly what you want even if you didn’t know you wanted it. A Christmas miracle.”

Louis is so endeared by that he wants to die.

“You know,” Louis says slowly, biting his lower lip and glancing up at Harry. “I - okay, before I say this, I’m not like. Trying to get rid of you, yeah?” He waits for Harry to nod before he continues. “It’s just - have you considered that, maybe, Toys "R" Us is not really the store to find something like that?”

“Um yeah,” Harry says, and he gives Louis a little smile that Louis can’t quite figure out as he shrugs. “I just...I thought I saw something in here that I quite liked? And so I came back and - “ He shrugs again. “Look, I’ve wasted a lot of your time today - for nothing too - and just - can I take you to dinner? Please?”

Louis’s heart does a little flop and his stomach swoops, but he shakes his head, biting his lip, and fuck, he regrets it before he’s even said it but… but it’s Christmas. And there’s so fucking much left to do. “I can’t,” he says honestly. “I’ve got all this work to do and - “

“What time do you get off?” 

Louis shakes his head stubbornly. “I can’t, yeah? Anyway, it’s Christmas - or, almost anyway - and that’s not the kind of time you spend taking someone out as a thank you dinner or whatever.” He gives Harry a smile. “Besides, I didn’t manage to find you a present for Lux after all.”

He realises, belatedly, that his hand is still on Harry’s arm and...and fuck, it feels good there. He drops it though - he has to _work_ , he reminds himself. A Christmas elf works all through Christmas and...and even if it wasn’t Christmas time - 

Well, if it wasn’t Christmas time, Harry wouldn’t be here.

“Listen, Louis, I - “

“I really have to get back to work,” Louis says, and gestures to his manager. “Or I’m going to get into trouble. Good luck finding that perfect present, yeah?” And a second later, he has an idea. He gives Harry another grin as he starts to back away, this one more honest and more real than the last. “Who knows, Harry, maybe you’ll get your Christmas miracle.”

***

Louis doesn’t get any sleep. He sits at his desk with the light on and works through the night.

In the morning, he gets dressed for work and thinks that maybe - just maybe - there’s a little bit of magic in Christmas after all.

***

Louis’s doing inventory when Niall comes rushing into the stockroom. He’s a little bit busy - he’s got to finish up the store’s stock check and then he’s got to make sure Santa has really got everything on those lists and make sure that there’s no last minute change or emergency or something because that one year, he’d actually had to figure out how to get that one _last minute wish_ onto Santa’s sleigh when he’d already taken off; it’d been a right mess. Anyway, he’s _busy_ , and Niall’s interruption is just - he just doesn’t need this today.

“What’s the fucking emergency, Niall?” Louis asks as Niall half leads, half drags him out onto the shop floor. “What’s burning that you can’t handle it yourself?”

“Customer,” Niall says by way of explanation. “Keeps asking for you. I’m pretty sure he’s going to refuse to go away until you appear.”

Louis blinks. “Did you...tell him I was busy?”

“Um. Well, I guessed that he’d refuse to go away? And then Zayn pointed out that he’s exactly your type and that he’d seen you two canoodling a few times already and - “ Louis is going to kill Zayn. “Well. It’s almost Christmas and it’s your birthday - so Merry Christmas and happy birthday from me and Zayn! I’m going to go finish inventory for you.” Before Louis can object, Niall takes his clipboard and skips off to the door.

Later, he’s going to kill Niall as well.

He looks up and finds - as expected - Harry standing a few feet away, looking at a box with interest. His breath catches in his throat. And that’s just...that’s ridiculous because he figured out it was Harry waiting the moment Niall had started on about a customer asking for him. Not many people remember his name let alone - and pretty much none of them would come into the store on Christmas Eve just to ask for him.

And that, in itself, is kind of stupid. That Harry would do something like this. That Louis’s not surprised that he’s done something like this. They barely know each other and yet… It feels a little like Christmas trying to send Louis a message. Which is even more stupid than all the other thoughts because he’s an elf. He _gives_ Christmas presents to people - makes sure everything’s going to _get_ to those people, makes miracles “happen”. So he knows the miracles aren’t exactly real. Especially not any more.

But when he actually looks at Harry, it feels like Christmas.

Harry still manages to take his breath away though, and that’s despite (or possibly because of?) the ridiculously festive jumper he’s wearing. 

“I’m pretty sure we’ve established that Lux’s perfect Christmas present isn’t here, Harry,” Louis says as he forces himself to take a few steps closer and not just...stand there and stare like an idiot.

Harry turns to look at Louis a bit guiltily as he puts the box back onto the shelf. “Yeah, I’m not here for Lux,” he says, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor before crossing the space between them to come to stop in front of Louis. “Actually, I have a confession to make.”

“Lux isn’t real,” Louis says, deadpanned, which startles a laugh out of Harry before Harry shakes his head.

“No - I mean, she’s real. Lux. Is real. And I really came in for a present for her on Saturday,” Harry says, words slowing down even more. Louis raises an eyebrow and gestures for Harry to go on. When Harry starts to talk again, it’s actually the fastest Louis has ever heard him speak, words blending into each other into a bit of a jumble that takes Louis a few moments to even figure out. “But I actually found the perfect present for her outside on my way home and I actually just came in here the other two days so I could talk to you.”

Louis blinks at him. And then gapes. “But the husky…”

“Going to give that to her anyway.”

“And the - the - we walked around the store _six times_ , Harry,” Louis says, voice rising in both tone and volume. “It took over an hour.”

Harry has the grace to look very, very sheepish at that. “Uh. Yeah. I just…” He lets out a breath. “I found other presents for other people? And like… I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry - but I wasn’t really lying?”

“How is that not lying?” Louis is… He doesn’t even really know what he feels about this. On one hand, he’s flattered. It’s - he’s never had anything like this happen to him before. On the other hand, Harry lied.

“Well, I _did_ see something I liked in here,” Harry says defensively and with such frankness Louis’s mouth actually shuts with an audible snap. “And I...well. I came back for it.”

Louis opens his mouth to retort but closes it when he realises he has no idea what to say. He starts to say something again but… but he just - he’s actually speechless possibly for the first time in his life. He has no idea what to say to that.

“That’s you, by the way,” Harry says, as if that’s something Louis couldn’t have figured out by himself. “The thing I saw that I liked. That’s you.”

“You just - I - you can’t just _say_ things like that,” Louis protests weakly. And it’s a really, really weak protest, especially when Harry takes a step closer and puts a light hand on Louis’s arm. 

“Why not?” 

“Because!” Louis says. “Just because.”

Harry makes a face. “That’s not an answer,” he argues stubbornly.

“It really is,” Louis says and pushes (weakly) at Harry’s chest. His fingers, the traitors, actually linger against Harry’s stupid jumper. Right on Rudolf’s red fucking nose.

Fuck, it’s Christmas Eve. He’s got _Things_ he’s supposed to be doing.

“It’s not,” Harry says and shakes his head, before he lets out a breath, fingers curling just a little - and fuck, Louis can feel Harry’s fingers digging in ever so slightly into his arm like he’s afraid Louis’s going to bolt. “I just - I was just saying the truth. I came back for the thing I saw that I liked. I came back for you. And so...I thought, fuck it, I shouldn’t keep hiding behind Lux and - “ He takes a breath. “Go out with me. Let me take you to dinner. Please.”

“I can’t,” Louis says, and maybe there’s an edge of pleading in his voice because he wants to - god, he wants to say yes so fucking much but he _can’t_. “Not tonight. I just - I can’t.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Is Christmas, Harry,” Louis says. “You’re supposed to celebrate that with your family.”

“You’re supposed to get what you want,” Harry says a bit stubbornly, and the tilt to his lips - the almost childish tone - makes Louis laugh a little. “It’s the time for miracles like that!” Harry defends immediately, and Louis shifts his touch into a soft prod.

“Miracles like that are only for people who’ve been good all year,” he says, completely unable to help teasing when Harry lays it right there for him. Just like that. So fucking easy to follow through.

“I’ve been good!” Harry protests.

“Then write a letter to Santa,” Louis teases as he pulls back with a small grin. “If you’ve been a really good boy, your present will be waiting for you when you wake up on Christmas day.” If he’s honest with himself, he pulls back only because talking about Santa reminds him that he’s got so much to do. But fuck if he doesn’t really want to just step closer. To say yes. To give Harry the present for Lux himself, and then...well. The point is, though, that he can’t do that. It’s Christmas Eve, and he doesn’t have time to entertain ridiculous fantasies.

When the whole Christmas thing is over, Louis’s just going to have been a passing fancy that fit with the Christmas spirit to Harry.

“Do you promise?” Harry asks even as Louis walks away once again.

“Promise?” Despite himself, Louis turns around to look at Harry, head tilting to the side in question.

“That, if I’ve been good, I’ll get what I ask Santa for.”

Louis’s lips tug up at the side and he gives Harry a small nod. “Yeah,” Louis says. “I promise.”

***

Louis double checks the music box once more. He can’t help smiling, happiness bubbling over into a soft laugh, before he wraps it up and adds the little tag labelling it _for Lux_.

For Lux. 

He can’t help feeling a little proud of it, really, because he’s… well, Harry’s probably never going to know - maybe he might wonder about it, but there’s no way for him to really know - but it makes Louis unbearably happy to think that he’s made this little gift - that the little girl that’s so special to Harry is going to get a gift that’s made _just for her_. Even if it’s just once in her life. And Harry’s probably never going to know but Louis’s going to have this little memory for the rest of his life.

It’s worth it, he thinks. It’s worth it even if he probably won’t ever see Harry again. He can go through the next year knowing that he made a little bit of magic happen.

He places the box carefully onto Santa’s sleigh with the rest of the presents and smiles a little wider. The last present to be loaded onto the sleigh.

He walks over to pat Prancer on the nose lightly. “Have a good flight, Prance,” he says. “See you later.”

He glances over Santa’s sleigh one more time before he walks back into the Grotto to help the others get the feast ready for the morning.

***

Louis’s panicking. Louis is panicking a lot. He has no idea what is going on - only knows that whatever it is, it’s probably not very good. He’d been ready to relax. They’d all been ready to relax. It had seemed like Christmas this year had gone off without a hitch despite everything and...and they’d been happily preparing dinner. Well, the other elves had been preparing dinner and Louis had been supervising - but the point was, they’d all been ready to celebrate.

And then Santa had called him.

Now, Louis is standing in front of a non-descript house somewhere in London, shifting from foot to foot nervously. He triple checks the address again and looks up towards the sky a little bit nervously - it’s getting light, almost dawn, and if Santa’s not careful, someone’s going to see him.

And god, Louis just - he can’t figure out what’s happened. What could possibly have gone wrong? Everything had been going so smoothly and - 

Louis hears the sleigh bells in the distance and glances around to see Santa coming towards him. The breath leaves Louis in a rush when he spots Lux’s present in his hands.

“Santa?” Louis asks, eyes widening as he moves towards him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Santa says with one of those smiles that...well, that’s probably supposed to be friendly and reassuring, but Louis always thinks it seems a bit more like Santa’s about to cause some mischief and he’s not entirely certain Louis is going to like it. “I’m just doing my job.”

Louis gives him a confused look as Santa places Lux’s present back into his hand. “Um...what?”

“My job,” Santa says with a smile. “Delivering Christmas presents to those who’ve written to me. And those who’ve been good this year.”

Louis blinks at him again. “Seriously, Santa, what the hell is going on? Why can’t you just put this under the tree?”

“Because,” Santa says. “That’s not the only present.”

Louis sees Santa’s lips curl up into a smirk under that beard before he reaches around Louis and rings the bell. Louis stares at him, stunned. “What the - “

“Turn around,” Santa instructs and pats him on the shoulder, physically turning Louis around. “And smile.”

And then he’s gone.

Louis watches in confusion that’s edging into horror as the doorknob turns - and then suddenly, he’s face to face with Harry, who’s looking at him in sleepy, stunned wonder.

“Louis?” Harry asks, blinking blearily at him as he ties his dressing gown up around his waist. “Christ, what are you doing here? You must be freezing!” Before Louis can even say anything, Harry ushers him inside, rubbing at his arms.

Louis’s still gaping, mind completely blank. “Um.”

“Louis?” Harry asks again, stilling, fingers curled into Louis’s arms. “Are you - is everything okay? What are you doing here?”

“Um,” Louis says, and then it finally catches up with him. It dawns on him. He _figures out what happened._ “Merry Christmas,” he says with a lopsided grin, reaching out a little hesitantly to rest his hand on Harry’s hip.

Harry looks absolutely bewildered and it just makes Louis laugh again. “Louis...what?” 

“I brought Lux’s present,” Louis says, raising his other hand to show Harry the box. “I - you talked about how you couldn’t find anything and I...well. I couldn’t help myself. So I - “

“You didn’t - how did you even know where I live?” And that’s a good question. That’s a great question. Louis has absolutely no idea how to answer that question, and he can’t not answer it because it just makes him seem like a really, really weird stalker.

“Um. It’s...it’s a long story,” Louis says honestly. “But it starts with… Did you _really_ write a letter to Santa?”

Harry looks completely confused for a moment before he starts laughing and he nods, grip tightening on Louis’s arm. “Yeah,” he says. After a moment, he slides his hand into Louis’s back pocket and pulls him in close. “Yeah, I did. I said I’ve been good. I’ve been good for years, and there’s this one thing - just one thing - that I really, really want.”

Louis gives him a smile in return, a little shy but a lot amused. “Is there?” he asks, biting his lip and hesitating only for a second before he steps in close, presses up against Harry’s front.

“Yeah,” Harry says, eyes flicking to Louis’s lips before he meets Louis’s eyes again. “I saw it in Toys "R" Us but I couldn’t...well, it’s not something that money could buy. So I...well, the only hope I had was a Christmas miracle, right?”

“Santa’s real,” Louis says stupidly. “I’m one of his elves.”

“I know,” Harry says and then stops. “Okay, no, I’d kind of figured Santa was real when I opened the door to find you standing there. With a man in a red suit trying to hide behind a tree.” Louis’s going to...he’s going to beat the shit out of Santa for that. Or something. “I hadn’t - you’re an _elf_?”

“Yes,” Louis says a bit defensively.

“Okay,” Harry says slowly before he just shrugs. “Anyway, yes. I figured Santa might be real when I opened the door to find you there,” he continues, trying to seem like nothing had interrupted him.

“You’re really okay with the fact that I’m an elf?”

“Hey,” Harry whines, pinching Louis’s arm. “I’m trying to be romantic and shit. Stop interrupting me!”

Louis laughs, leaning up a little bit, mouth only centimetres from Harry’s - and not closing that gap. “Go on then.”

“I figured Santa was real because I asked him for you,” Harry says in a rush, and finally kisses him.

Louis lifts up onto his toes and kisses him back, wraps his arm around Harry’s neck and uses that to draw Harry even closer, to kiss him harder - laughs into his mouth as Harry backs him up against the wall, fits himself against Louis and deepens that kiss a bit more. 

“Merry Christmas to Lux in a few hours,” Harry says as he takes Lux’s present from Louis’s hand and puts it on the table by the door. Before Louis can even think about moving from where he is, Harry presses him back against the wall again, urges Louis to wrap both his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry uses that hold to hitch Louis up the wall a little bit, enough that Harry can lean in and kiss him harder, deeper, fit himself more solidly against him. “But right now, it’s merry, merry Christmas to me.”

“Merry Christmas,” Louis says with a grin and bites at Harry’s lower lip lightly. “For a very good boy.”

“Very good boy,” Harry agrees breathlessly, eyes soft as he looks at Louis, trails his hand deceptively lightly over Louis’s cheek. Then he dips his head to nuzzle at Louis’s throat gently. “I’m going to be the best boy for you.”

Louis laughs, startled, and tightens his arms around Harry’s neck. “And apparently, a Merry Christmas to me too.” When Harry grins at him, bright and natural and easy, Louis thinks _it’s worth it._ Absolutely everything is worth this one moment. 

And every other moment that’s still to come.

“Merry Christmas, Louis,” Harry says. 

Louis can’t help giving him his best, brightest smile before he says, “So are you going to unwrap your Christmas present yet or what?” Harry lets out a laugh, loud and unabashed and absolutely wonderful, and, without any warning, picks Louis up off the ground and carries him (still laughing) through to his bedroom.

And it’s a very Merry Christmas indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at [dea](http://dea.tumblr.com/). Please drop by if you'd like to say hi!


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